


Sick With the Birthday Boy Blues

by Pineprin137



Category: Original Work
Genre: Diarrhea, Gastrointestinal sickness, Hurt No Comfort, I hope, Implied Anxiety, Lactose Intolerance, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Squick, Vomiting, not too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:41:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineprin137/pseuds/Pineprin137
Summary: Lactose intolerance + impromptu birthday celebration + new coworkers = Not a very happy birthday





	Sick With the Birthday Boy Blues

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS for gastrointestinal grossness! Heed the tags! 
> 
> This is my first official sickfic. I love them and decided to try my hand at it.  
> I am not a medical professional, I got my info from the interwebs like everyone else.

His leg shook under the desk and one of his fists clenched the material of his jeans so hard his knuckles turned white. Another cramp tore through his abdomen and he bit his lip to hide a moan. It had only been ten minutes since the impromptu birthday party had ended, but he was sure there would be hours of torture to come. He could only blame himself for succumbing to the pressure of his coworkers. They hadn’t said anything directly, but the gleam of disappointment in their eyes when he had refused the first offering of cake and ice cream had wilted his resolve. He knew he should say no, but it was only his second month with the firm and they were just starting to see him as a fellow professional instead of the awkward guy who had literally tripped through the door on his first day.  
He rested his head on the edge of the desk and tried to breathe through the mounting discomfort in his stomach. One stupid scoop of ice cream and half a piece of cake. That was all it had taken for his body to start the painful rejection process. The pain slowly ebbed enough that he managed to sit back in his chair, but one arm still rested across his middle. Why couldn’t he say no like a normal person? All he had to do was explain that he appreciated the gesture, but due to his lactose intolerance, it wasn’t a good idea for him to partake in the dairy-rich treats.  
After a few moments of deep breathing, he used his free hand to slide his sketch in front of him and pushed his bangs off his sweaty forehead. He rolled his neck and shoulders, winced when a sharp pain echoed in his belly and then got back to work. He spent an hour switching between focusing on the plans for the new observatory and gently massaging his stomach, hoping the medicine would kick in soon. He had downed the lactose pill as soon as he had escaped to the privacy of his office. He glanced up from sketching the entryway pillars when his phone vibrated against the desk. As soon as he put his pencil down, the pain he had been successfully ignoring for the past hour doubled and he was forced to double over his lap while swallow frantically against the rising sourness in his throat. The wave of nausea thankfully passed and he realized that he was gripping his phone in a death grip.  
He stayed bent over as he pushed against the notification, grimacing when he saw his husband’s message. Apparently, his in-laws had invited them over for a last-minute dinner tonight. He started to type out a reply but ended up clenching his eyes shut when his stomach emitted a low gurgling noise. He was instantly grateful that he didn’t have to share his office with anyone when his body released an emission of noxious flatulence. He couldn’t see his face, but he knew it was red with embarrassment. God, all he wanted was to go home and suffer in privacy. He tensed as panic took over. Once the gas pains hit, he had fifteen, maybe twenty minutes before the floodgates opened. At that point, it would be too late to creep out of his office and down to the men’s restroom.  
He kept one hand on his churning stomach and the other in a fist against his mouth as he attempted to muffle progressively wetter belches. He walked as quickly as the pain would allow from his door towards the pale blue sign on the wall at the other end indicating the restrooms. He had to pass by twenty small cubicles to get there and he hoped nobody would notice his increasingly desperate situation. In the back of his mind, he faintly registered the continuing vibration of the phone he had hastily stuffed into his pocket. His husband was just going to have to wait to bitch him out, right now his only focus was getting through the door before his body surrendered.  
He shoved through the door and only had a moment to check if he was alone before he snatched the small metal trash can from the corner and stumbled into a stall. He clenched his muscles as tightly as he could while he struggled to unbutton his jeans. He could feel the pressure pushing against his asshole at the same time vile liquid surged up his throat. He spun with the bin clutched to his chest and sat heavily onto the seat. He gritted his teeth and managed a groan before he lost control.  
He lurched forward over the receptacle in his lap as his loose bowels splashed into the water. He prayed that none of his coworkers would choose this moment for a bathroom break. His back arched with each wave of vomit that spilled from his lips while his intestines worked to rid him of the dairy he had ingested. It took a good thirty minutes for his heaves to turn dry and his bowels to stop voiding. He carefully set the trash can on the ground in front of him and panted while trying to catch his breath. He would give anything for a glass of water to rinse his mouth right now, but he was still alone. Luckily, he hadn’t been aware of any spectators witnessing the utter destruction of his dignity. If someone had been unfortunate enough to hear his body trying to turn itself out, they had escaped before he could notice.  
After hesitating for a few more minutes, he deemed it safe to rise and take care of clean up. He flushed twice to get rid of the evidence and then dumped the contents of the poor violated little metal trash can and flushed twice more to be sure. He made his way to the row of sinks and hazarded a glance at his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot and his face was slightly pale, but other than that, he looked okay. He washed his hands thoroughly and used a damp paper towel to clean his face and blow his nose. Clearing his sinuses triggered a short coughing fit and for a moment he feared he would hurl in the sink, but after a minute or two, he was able to clear his throat. He cupped his hands under the cold water and rinsed his mouth before taking a few sips.  
He paused at the doorway and turned back to assess the small room. Other than a faint odor, all traces of his birthday treat-induced sickness were gone. He slowly walked back to his desk, sat down, and resumed his sketch. He left promptly one hour later and none of his coworkers were any wiser about his ailment.


End file.
